Page 56 of How You See Me
I flinch at the sound of her voice. “Definitely not.”
“No. You’re too nice . . . a gentle-man.”
I can’t respond because I’m holding her bare leg and touching her mind-numbingly smooth skin.
“And a . . . boot whisperer-er.”
Moving to her other leg, heat blooms low in my gutwhen my knuckles graze her inner thigh.
“You know,” she breathes in and her back arches, the same way I imagine she’d look writhing under my touch.
I can’t stop my gaze from following along the rise of her breasts or my body from wanting to know how her skin tastes beneath that thin cotton.
Shaking out of the thought, I get back to work. My very innocent, non-sexual task. This shouldn’t feel intimate or charged with this much desire. I’m supposed to be caring for her—not fantasizing about kissing every inch of her.
“If you were a real cowboy,” she continues, “you’d be the polite kind. You’d probably ask your horse if you could ride her.”
I exhale slowly, glancing out into the darkness beyond. These comments are not helping. Not one iota.
“You’re drunk.”
“True statement.”
I get the second boot and sock off and drop them beside the others. Two bare legs, sinfully short shorts, and a tank top that’s bunching up her narrow torso as she stretches.
Damn it, Josie.
I don’t want to want her like this. But every movement, every piece of her I uncover, every sound, peels back something raw inside me.
And I haven’t even started washing her yet.
For a distraction, I grab a washcloth from the back and soak it at the water pump nearby. My hands shake as I wring it out. The water’s not cold. It’s her and the level of restraint I’ll need for what comes next.
Pressing the damp cloth to her thigh, she shifts in response with a breathy moan.
“Mmm . . . a sponge bath?”
“Not quite.”
I drag the cloth over her knee, careful around the scrape there. She exhales again, the sound invading my space like smoke. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should have left her here until she felt well enough to shower on her own. But I can’t stop now.
Her head tilts toward me. “You’re good at that. Guys don’t never touch me like you do.”
“Josie.”
She hums in reply, eyes heavy-lidded.
“I’m trying to be respectful.”
“You’re doin’ good.” Her hand waves vaguely in my direction. “Monk-level respect . . .a hot monk.”
I move to her other leg, attempting to ignore her rambles. Hopefully, she won’t remember any of this in the morning.
But I will. Every fucking second, and it’s going to haunt me every fucking second I’m with her.
Taking her hand, I run the rag over her palm until nothing remains but flawless skin.
“You smell nice.” Her nose wrinkles. “Should’ve told you that earlier.”
